


And I Start To Drown

by Nevanna



Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Age Difference, Dubious Consent, First Time, M/M, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 03:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16077272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevanna/pseuds/Nevanna
Summary: Alex has wondered how Roger would win over the object of his desire.  He's about to find out.





	And I Start To Drown

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic is from the song "Ghost" by the Indigo Girls, though it was originally saved on my hard drive as "trash fire seduction."

Alex sometimes feels more than a little bit dazed after talking to his knight-master, and so it takes him a moment to react – a moment that could have cost his life in a fight – when another familiar voice calls his name.

He turns to see Gary hurrying along the corridor after him. “Where are you going?”

“To the market,” Alex replies. “I’ve got a list of supplies to collect for Duke Roger.”

“I’ve the afternoon off; why don’t I go with you? Unless this is” – he attempts an imitation of Alex’s tone and accent – “‘too sensitive an errand.’”

Although Alex’s duties have prevented him from spending much time with the other boys over the past few months, Roger didn’t exactly forbid him from bringing a friend on this particular errand. “Come along if you like, as long as you don’t make any more jokes about frogs’ eyes. I can’t be responsible for what might happen if His Grace ever finds out that you’ve made fun of his spellwork.”

“You think he might turn _me_ into a frog?”

Alex knows his line: “Some might call that an improvement.” Gary grins obligingly. “Let’s go. I can’t be late getting back.” He can still feel the warmth and pressure of the hand that gripped his shoulder as Roger told him what time to return.

\--

The market sounds the same as it always has: songs and laughter, the whinny of horses and the calls of merchants, all ringing through the smells of spices and smoke and horse dung. For just a moment, Alex is struck by the memory of similar outings during his first few months as a page. In those days, Gary, who had grown up in Corus, kept his new friend from being trampled underfoot or hopelessly lost, either in the crowd or inside his own head.

As if he’s picked up on the memory by instinct, or perhaps through some latent magic from further back in the Naxen line, Gary starts to reminisce about a caper from their second year, an adventure that ended with a sheepish Francis covered in potato peels and all three of them assigned extra cleaning for the next month. It’s been years since Alex thought of that night: a time before Roger entered his life, before Francis died, before their friends clustered around Alan of Trebond. The impetuous children in Gary’s story seem as distant as figures in a nursery tale.

He consults the list that Roger handed him. Thanks to his botany lessons, Alex can identify most edible and poisonous plants, as well as a few that can induce sleep or halt the progress of a wound – the sort of knowledge that would be useful to a traveling knight. Roger has told him less conventional stories, of concealed poisons and assassination attempts that would have worked if the target hadn’t swallowed an antidote before dinner. Still, Alex isn’t surprised that most of the herbs on the list are unfamiliar.

When a scruffy fellow in a hooded cloak claps Gary on the back, greets him like an old friend, and suggests a drink at the nearby Dancing Dove, Alex can’t resist asking for an explanation. He knows that his friends have been sneaking into the city without him, and is curious as to whether – and how – Gary will choose to lie.

“You know that Father’s been trying to bear down on the criminal element in the Lower City,” Gary says after the stranger has vanished. “Apparently, that one thinks that I can be bribed on his behalf.”

Alex gives his coolest nod in response and hands his list to the herb-seller, who winks at them as she opens jars and fills bags. “I already know that one flower under this canopy is beyond price,” Gary says, leaning toward her. 

Alex is too busy rolling his eyes to see how she responds.

“Haven’t _you_ considered the words you might use to win a lady’s favor?” Gary asks as they walk away. 

“Just because you’re caught up in a new courtship dance every week doesn’t mean that the rest of us are.” As he wonders what Roger might say to seduce the object of his desire, and what might happen if he succeeds, Alex has to turn away for a moment.

“For now,” Gary insists. “Then again, I haven’t heard a word on the subject from Alan, either. Raoul thinks it would be fitting if you both fell for the same girl, since you already compete over everything else.” 

Alex recalls the way that Alan looks at Prince Jonathan, with a longing that he himself understands a little bit better every day. He wonders how Gary could have gotten either him or Alan so wrong, even with the distance that’s been growing between them, like a slowly widening river, for the past few months.

\--

Duke Gareth does indeed have plans regarding organized crime in Corus, and he expounds upon them at length during the next celebratory dinner at the palace. As Alex and the other squires keep the guests’ goblets full, he catches only the occasional glimpse of Raoul, seeming somehow to burst from his best clothes, and Gary, who carries off artfully ruffled hair with such casual confidence that not even his father has reprimanded him yet.

Jonathan sits between his parents on the royal dais, with the calm composure of a man who has the world laid out in front of him. When Gary first introduced the two of them, Alex remembers his own determination to win the prince’s approval, and to hide how much he wanted it.

Roger makes his own eloquent contributions to the discussion, and although Alex only hears every third remark, he can’t suppress a glow of pride and envy at how effortlessly his knight-master captivates the other nobles. Shortly after the dancing starts, Roger excuses both himself and his squire with a deep bow to the royal family and such a perfect mix of gratitude, regret, and alluring urgency that his manner should probably be included in future lessons on correct social behavior.

He rests one hand lightly upon Alex’s back as they retreat from the room.

\--

“Did Your Grace need something else from me?” Alex asks, once Roger has shut the door to his sitting room and ignited the candles along the wall with a wave of his hand.

“Only your company,” Roger says smoothly, indicating the space beside him on the couch. “Have a seat, and tell me what you thought of this evening’s affair.”

Roger is more attentive to Alex’s opinions than anyone else in the palace, and Alex isn’t sure how anybody else’s attention and regard – even Jonathan’s – could have ever compared to this. Not wanting his observations to disappoint, he’s found himself scrutinizing the intricacies of Court life more carefully and critically than ever. 

When Alex stops speaking, Roger gives a satisfied nod and says, “One can’t deny that Duke Gareth is an impressive man. It will take an extraordinary individual to succeed him as the King’s Champion, don’t you think?”

“Are you asking what I _think_ , sir?” Alex counters. “Or what I _hope_?”

Roger is smiling. “We both know the answer to the second question, don’t we?” He pours two goblets of wine and hands one to Alex. “To the glory of our kingdom,” he declares, raising his own cup.

Alex savors the spices in his first mouthful. Nothing that Roger offers him has failed to surprise or entice.

“As the monarch,” Roger continues, “Jonathan would have to appoint a warrior whom he can trust absolutely.”

Alex grips the stem of his goblet so hard that it hurts. “You think that he’d choose Trebond, don’t you?” It’s a little bit too plausible.

“Jon is very dear to me, of course,” Roger says. “And I know that you have valued his friendship. But you might have to reconsider whether he recognizes your true worth.” He takes a sip from his own cup. “Then again, perhaps this is not the night for such troubling thoughts. I wonder whether I should have pulled you away from your friends.”

“When I last saw Gary and Raoul, they were flashing their tail feathers at the nearest ladies. I don’t think they even noticed that I was gone.”

“Such games don’t appeal to you?”

“If Your Grace is concerned that a pretty face will…” The effects of the wine are stronger than Alex expected, and he has trouble getting his tongue around the next word. “…Distract me from my duties, you needn’t worry.” He’s sure that the room has grown warmer, the air heavier with the scent that Roger has combed through his hair for the evening.

“I am always grateful for your loyalty.” When did Roger draw closer to him? Is it just the candlelight that has ignited that hungry gleam in his eye? “Surely, however, there must be somebody at Court who has caught your interest.”

Alex forces himself not to look away. “Yes, there is.”

He doesn’t quite know what to expect: every possible reaction, from anger to mockery to (worst of all) condescendingly gentle dismissal, flies through his mind in the time it takes Roger to sigh and put down his cup. “Your boldness is admirable,” he says. “As are so many things about you.”

Alex waits for a _but_ or a _however_. When he doesn't hear either, he grows bold enough to lean forward the rest of the way for a tentative brush of lips. At first, Roger returns the kiss, as skillfully and thoroughly as he’s done in Alex’s most shameful dreams… and then holds him at arm’s length, pinning him with those incredible blue eyes. “Are you sure?” 

Alex nods. “I want this.” His very surroundings might be shimmering, and his thoughts seem to melt at the edges, but that certainty remains. 

Roger chuckles and gestures at the front of Alex’s breeches. “Well, _part_ of you certainly does.”

 _Let him look. Let him touch, if he wishes._ Alex forms his next words slowly, half afraid that they’ll run together like wax: “I regret none of what I’ve given you, my lord. I promise that I never will.” 

That convinces Roger to draw him into an embrace, and then another kiss. For a moment, Alex fears that he’ll wake alone in a tangle of sticky sheets, but then he feels teeth close gently on his lip, drawing out an uneven moan, and he no longer cares whether this is a dream. His arms close around Roger’s back, hands clutching at the rich velvet of his doublet.

Roger moves his lips and teeth to Alex’s earlobe, then his neck, before removing his mouth a hair’s breadth to ask, “Do you know how men give each other pleasure?”

“Of course,” Alex says, and then, when Roger raises an eyebrow, he amends, “Somewhat.”

Roger laughs and pulls him to his feet. “Then I shall very much enjoy adding to your knowledge.”

\--

The bed beneath them seems to float, and the room shimmers and wavers as if they’re underwater. Alex clings to Roger like a drowning man as each sensation builds upon the next, and when the wave crests and breaks, he knows that he’ll do anything to stay in his master’s favor.

The next day, when Gary asks where they went after dinner, Alex grants him a half smile and lets him wonder.


End file.
